This week’s Newfangled Gramma is my friend Nancy Solak, author of A Footpath in Umbria: Learning, Loving and Laughing in Italy. For details about Nancy and her book, visit her web site: A Reluctant Traveler, at: www.areluctanttraveler.com

She not only travels and writes, she reads a lot – Kindled books, audio books and actual books. I imagine she also reads the backs of cereal boxes, directions that come with tech gadgets, trashy murder mysteries, Shakespeare’s sonnets and everything put on paper by the six people in our writing group.

Nancy prefers nonfiction, but dabbles in fiction. She wants us to keep this in mind while reading her comments on novels.

Here are her takes on three books she read last year: Cutting for Stone, a novel by Abraham Verghase

“I read this nearly 500-page book in two parts – a four-month period in between. To the author’s credit, I did not need to review any of the beginning when I returned to it. All the characters and the story line were still embedded in my memory. That is not a tribute to my memory, but to Verghase’s story. Most of the book is set in Ethiopia where twins are born to a Caucasian surgeon (named Stone) and a nun from India.

I know … you need to trust the author.

The book takes place during the 1970s when Haile Selassie was emperor and then overthrown. The author is a surgeon himself and, therefore, there is a lot of medical description in the book. Somehow this did not slow the story – the poetry of his writing kept me fascinated. I think I loved the reading of this book so much that I subconsciously spread out the reading of it so as to “keep” it longer.

Toward the end there are some implausible events, but it was easy to forgive them considering the absurdly wonderful read the author created prior. ★★★★ out of four stars.”

A Singular Woman: The Untold Story of Barack Obama’s Motherby Janny Scott (nonfiction)

“The criticism I’ve heard about this book is that it never would have been written had Stanley Ann Dunham not been Barack Obama’s mother. It’s true – I wouldn’t have read of such a person; however, her life was far more interesting and she was far more singular than I and most everyone I’ve ever met. As an anthropologist, Dunham’s work may not have been as fascinating as that of Margaret Mead’s, but still, it was definitely noteworthy.

We learn of the trials and tribulations it takes to be a cutting-edge anthropologist in an age when people scarcely have the wherewithal to finish long, technical projects. I also understand more about why Barack Obama is how he is.

His “No drama Obama” moniker probably came from spending his formative years in Indonesia. Calmness (and developing a thick skin) is a cultural feature particular to Indonesia. His mother helped foster those traits in him along with the importance of learning. There are also some wonderful black-and-white photos in the book. The picture of the President’s mother at high school graduation shows an uncanny resemblance. ★★★ out of four stars, only because I think the detailed description of her dissertation bogged the reading.”

Little Bee,a novel by Chris Cleave“Sarah and her husband are trying to reconnect their relationship while vacationing on a Nigerian beach. I know. Who goes to a Nigerian beach for a vacation? Apparently the Brits do.

A brief yet horrifying event occurs on the beach among the British couple, two young Nigerian girls (one of whom calls herself Little Bee) and ruthless soldiers. A moral dilemma ensues and Sarah steps up to the plate; but her husband doesn’t. This decision haunts him for the rest of his life.

When Little Bee (who ended up in a British detention center after the beach incident) is released and has nowhere to go, she turns up on the couple’s steps. Although the story is somewhat implausible, I found it riveting. If they ever make a movie of it, though, I will not be among its audience for there is brutality and sadness beyond the pale.

I listened to this book on CD and heartily recommend it for the voices of Sarah and Little Bee are rendered distinct and beautiful by the reader. Not only that, but the British couple has a preschool boy who not only insists he’s Batman but also is irresistibly cute. The narrator makes his voice indelible as well.

Despite all the sad things that happen in this story, I fell in love with Sarah, Little Bee and Batman. ★★★★out of four stars.”

I read an article in Sunday’s Detroit Free Press about Chrysler CEO Sergio Marchionne, who I consider an exceptionally appealing and incredibly sexy-looking man. I like Italian men in general, but I especially like Marchionne’s pookie little pouchy cheeks and full, pursed lips; nice eyes; rumpled hair. I like how he dresses – casual, but impeccably crisp and tailored. The front-page article referred to Marchionne’s signature black crew neck sweater over tie-less oxford shirt with black pants. Signature? When I wear the same category of clothes nearly every day – as I am wont to do – I feel boring, predictable and uninspired. Lazy, even. Perhaps I’m not as dull as I think I am. Maybe it’s my signature look. I’m retired and don’t have to dress up and punch in at an office, so I invariably select a pair of jeans (I have more than a dozen pairs in dark blue, stone-washed light blue, black, tan, olive green, gray etc.) and a crew neck sweater or sweatshirt over a long-sleeved mock turtle neck shirt. If I’m going out to one of my two volunteer activities where jeans are not allowed, I upgrade to dressier pants with ironed creases and a knitted cotton turtle neck sweater under a jacket. As soon as I return home, it’s back to jeans and a sweatshirt. I almost never wear a skirt or a dress. Martha Stewart has a signature look – un-tucked big shirt over khakis or jeans. I wear those shirts, too, as an occasional variation of my signature look. The shirts hide a lot of lumps and bumps that, maddeningly, have encircled my midsection and settled in, apparently for the duration. I can’t remember the last time I wore my shirt tucked into pants. None of my belts fit. I am delusional, maybe, but I think the big jacket-shirts (a la Martha) hide the lumps. A friend of a friend who is in her 70s has only worn black and beige for the last 50 years of her life. No colors. It’s her signature look. Lady Gaga, I suppose, has a signature look – outrageous. Dolly Parton has a signature look. Cher, too. Steve Jobs always wore a black turtleneck and black pants. Novelist Tom Wolfe’s signature look is beautifully tailored white business suits. He reminds me of the Good Humor man. Another friend – a man in his 60s – always wears an oxford shirt, a blazer and a bow tie -- a real one that he has to tie himself, not one of those cheaters. His signature look takes him to work, to church, to the grocery store, to barbecues and pool parties and fundraisers and graduation parties and high- and low-brow live performances of all kinds -- probably on vacation, as well. I picture him walking on a beach in his blazer and bow tie, but perhaps barefoot, with his pants rolled up. In summer, I modify my signature. I have an array of long (formerly known as Bermuda) shorts and all kinds of T shirts – sloppy, holey, ragged, loose and stained as well as plain, dressier ones in every color imaginable. I like to arrange them in my closet according to color. At the far left are the stark whites, then eggshell and ecru, light beige, pale yellow, peach, various shades of pink and red, then the blues and greens and grays; finally, black. The sloppy T shirts have words on them – places I’ve been. When I’m on vacation, I can’t resist purchasing yet another T shirt or sweatshirt touting the local attractions: Cape Cod, Nantucket, Phoenix, Martinique, Italy, Martha’s Vineyard, Sanibel Island, San Francisco, etc. I think these T shirts are my veiled way of bragging. “Look at me!! Ta daaaaaa!! I’ve been to Martha’s Vineyard.” I love the sleek, classic, understated style of Ralph Lauren’s designs and I have a source for getting a lot of his stuff on sale. But I refuse to buy any of his shirts – or anybody else’s shirts with the designer’s name emblazoned on a pocket or a collar. I’m not comfortable with that kind of bragging, no matter how much I love the designer. But back to Sergio. I don’t own one of his cars. I drive a Ford. But I admire a man who downplays his own appearance without looking disheveled or unwashed. Sergio’s signature look says “I am more interested in what I’m doing than in how I look. I’m more into conversation and exchange of ideas than in what you think about my appearance.” I once asked my dad why men’s formal clothing was so restricted – black tuxedo jacket and pants, white pleated shirt, black tie, black shoes – whereas women’s formal gowns were so colorful, each one different and individually accessorized with jewelry and purse and shoes. He said tuxedos were meant to serve as a background. The women’s ensembles were the main event. Sergio may be emulating the tuxedo. I hope my signature look says the same thing.

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